"Look, now, there are far fewer of these monsters, whereas the Tatars can be numbered by hundreds of thousands. The flesh of a giant is but flesh, and a sword may pierce it. Goliath also was a giant, and a shepherd's son slew him. Let us rather go against them."
And they set off towards the forest.
"Well, you will repent it," the gipsy cried after them.
As the warriors drew near to the forest, there emerged from among the trees twelve terrible forms, thrice as big as ordinary men. They had heads as large as barrels, their moustaches were like horses' tails, they covered two ells at each stride, and swords two ells in length hung heavily on their shoulders.
"Well, little brother," said Simon the warrior, grasping the hilt of his sword at the sight, "either they are going to eat us or we will eat them, choose your man and I'll choose mine."
And they drew their swords and rushed upon the giants.
The monstrous shapes at first raised a great shout at them, and flourished their swords, but perceiving that they could by no means terrify the two warriors, they turned tail, and with long strides hastened back towards the forest.
They were no giants from the hand of Nature after all, but only jugglers of the Tatar khan who could stride about on long stilts, and dressed up to ape God's wonders, so as to scare back the fugitive population into the claws of its murderers. The gipsy knew this very well, for he was in league with them.
When Simon the warrior saw the giants take to flight, he encouraged his brother still more against them. But they had no need to hunt for them in the forest, for they could not move quickly enough on their stilts among the trees and shrubs, their masques and wrappings also impeded them, so that they could not make a proper use of their heavy swords, so the two brothers cut down every one of them without mercy, and stuck their painted monster heads on the tops of stakes on the borders of the forest, that the flying people might take courage at the sight when they beheld them from afar. And the name of the treacherous gipsy Simon the warrior wrote down on the hilt of his sword.
And then they again set out westward, till at length they reached the waters of the Theiss, where they found a ferry, in front of which many people were then waiting, all of whom had fled from before the Tatars.
The toll was in those days collected by certain of the Patarenes or Albigenses, for in the days of King Andrew and the Palatine Dienes, all the tolls had fallen into the hands of such-like oppressed people. It might be supposed that in times of such great danger, when every one was flying from fire amidst bloodshed, that the ferrymen would let the fugitives over the rivers for nothing. And of a truth Christian Magyar men would have so done, but the impious Patarenes laid heavier contributions than usual on the refugees, who fled from before the Tatars, carrying all they possessed on their persons, and these last possessions they had to give up to the godless ferrymen. The women had to give up their earrings, the men their shoe-buckles by way of ransom, to the hard-hearted wretches to ferry them over. But those who had nothing and were flying as beggars received godless usage at their hands, for they were compelled to repeat after them a Manichaean prayer, which was nothing but a frightful blasphemy against the one true God and His saints in the Tatar tongue. And very many repeated it not thinking at all in their deadly fear of the salvation of their souls. Those who feared to utter the abomination searched elsewhere for a ford across the Theiss, or, if they could swim, set about swimming, and so many perished there.
The two brethren had nought wherewith to pay the ferry-toll but the blaspheming Tatar prayer. Simon the warrior said he would rather let himself be cut in pieces by the Tatars than blaspheme the true God and the Blessed Virgin, but Michael, having more _sang-froid_, assured him that he would say it for them both, and made out that his brother was dumb. He, therefore, repeated the horrible blasphemy twice, once for himself and once for his elder brother, while Simon, with clenched fists, repeated silently to himself an Our Father and a Hail Mary! Thus they got ferried over to the opposite shore; and when Simon the warrior reproached his brother for yielding to compulsion and repeating the blasphemous verses, Michael reassured his elder brother by telling him that after every verse he had said to himself: "Not true, not true." Yet for all that it was a grievous sin.
And warrior Simon marked the name of the Manichaean on the hilt of his sword.
But now the refugees plunged into the jaws of a fresh danger. The great battle of the Sajo[22] had just been lost. The Tatar flood filled the whole space between the Danube and the Theiss. When they emerged on the border of a forest, the two brothers saw nothing all around them, right up to the horizon, but the smoke of burning villages. They returned, therefore, into the forest, and began to fare northwards, hearing on every side of them the sound of the Tatar horns replying to each other; seeking a refuge for the night in the trunks of hollow trees, and finding no other sustenance than wild honey and beach-mast with which to satisfy the cravings of hunger.
[Footnote 22: On the Muhi _puszta_, near the river Sajo, the Tatars defeated King Bela and the Magyars in 1241.]
On the fourth day they reached a respectable house in the midst of the forest, which was defended neither by trench nor bastion, and yet was not burnt down.
The young warriors marvelled thereat; they did not know that in this house dwelt a Moor, and the Moors were all on the side of the Tatars.
They brought them tidings, conducted them to the towns, and were their spies and receivers. What the Tatars stole they bought of them cheaply, and peddled it in Moravia, and even further still. This was the house of one of these hucksters. A great red ox's head was painted on the door, that the Tatars might recognize that the dweller therein was one of their men.
The Moor received them with great amiability when they crossed his threshold, assured them that they might stay with him, and immediately set about making ready a meal for them, which was a great consolation to the honest, starving wanderers. While they were complaining to their honest host of the hardships they had undergone, a noble lady came panting up to the house, from whose ragged robes and unstitched sandals one could see that she had fled afar for refuge, and asked whether her beloved husband and her little boy had come thither. There were five of them hiding in the forest, she said; her husband, with their little boy, a faithful retainer, a nurse, and a little baby. All at once they had heard the barking of dogs, and her husband had said that the other three should remain behind in a cave, while he himself, with the little boy, went on in front to look about, and see whether there were any human dwelling near at hand. They had waited for him a long time, till at last the wife, terrified at the long absence of her husband, had come forth herself to seek him. Were they perchance here?
"It is possible they may have come hither, my child," said the Moor, with a shrug; "many seek refuge here nowadays. What were they like?"
The woman described her husband's appearance and his garments, and then the little boy. On the little boy's finger, she said, was a black horsehair ring, with a little white cross. None could take it off, even if they killed him for it; he could be recognized by that.
The Moor replied that he had not cast eyes on them, and the poor woman, wailing and ringing her hands, went further on to seek for her husband and her little boy.
Meanwhile, a meal had been served up for the young warriors--seethed flesh in a huge caldron. The Moor also brought them wine, and, hoping they would enjoy their food, left them to themselves.
Sir Michael, who was very hungry, would have attacked the liberal repast forthwith, but Sir Simon stopped him.
"Had we not better first offer up our thanks, Michael?" said he.
So they said a grace, as it becomes God-fearing men to do, and then only did they turn to their meat.
And behold! God had mercy on them, and was gracious to them, for when Sir Michael plunged his curved eating-knife into the kettle, what think you he brought out of it on the point of his knife? A tiny bone encircled by a black horsehair ring, with a tiny white cross in the midst of the ring.
The youths leaped in terror to their feet, and, with no further thought of either meat or drink, and without taking leave of host or hostess, rushed from thence as fast as their legs could carry them, and only late in the evening arrived in front of the cave of a poor hermit, to whom they told the horrible thing that had befallen them.
"Give thanks to God, my sons," said the old ascetic, "that He has delivered you from that evil place, for the dwellers therein are none other than the impious Moors, the spies of the Tatars, who give to the refugees who seek a shelter there, stupefying drugs in their drink, and, when sleep has overcome them, chop off their heads. For the heads they get a denarius a piece from the Tatars, and the flesh of the bodies they give to the refugees who come afterwards, thus most monstrously causing the Magyars to eat the bodies of their own brethren. Rejoice that you have not tasted thereof. Clear fresh water and dried roots will now be a banquet to you, and we will share them together. Remain here till morning, and then go even higher and higher towards the north; you cannot miss your way. On whichever side of the trees you find moss, in that direction the north will be. If you go a seven days' journey through valleys and hills, you will see before you the highest mountains on the borders of Hungary; there will you hear a bell, and it shall guide you. There you will find a shelter--there are the Stones of Refuge, which those who are skilled in war have provided with means of defence, so that they may receive fugitives from every quarter. There also will be a good place for you. You will find there an altar, bread, strong bastions, which the good God and your good swords will defend against a thousand enemies. Stop nowhere till you reach that place, for danger and desolation are over all the land."
The young warriors kissed the hand of the good old man for his good counsel, and early in the morning, according to his directions, went all alone through the dense forests. They went far, they went for a long time, they left behind them the oak hills, they left the beech hills behind them, and now they were among the dark, solemn pines, but further and further still they had to go.
But one morning, when they had sat down to rest among the lofty mountains, the voice of a bell, coming from afar, struck upon their ears. It was the voice of a very large bell, such bells as are only to be found in such cities as Fehervar or Nagy Varad, in the cathedrals.
Sir Michael leaped with joy at the sound.
"Here must certainly be the Rocks of Refuge," he cried.
But his brother Simon only shook his head.
"We have still further to go, my brother. The holy man said it was at least a seven days' journey from here."
"Ah! no doubt he measured the distance with his own feet, and they are old."
"But the sound of this bell comes not from the north, but much more from the west."
"No doubt we have lost the proper direction."
And Sir Michael persuaded his elder brother, Simon, not to go any further, but turn aside and discover from whence came the sound of the bell, for surely none but a Christian man would signal with a bell. No doubt they did so to prevent folks from losing their way, so that they might turn in thither and find a place of refuge from the enemy.
Simon at last agreed, and they proceeded in the direction from whence the sound of the bell came, and when they had emerged from the forest a little pebbly valley opened out before them, through which wound a little brook, and over the brook a great footbridge was cast. But the bridge led up to a great rocky castle, with a large pointed tower in each of its four corners, and a fifth tower in the middle. There were bells in all five of these towers, and they were pulling them as if they were ringing in a procession.
"These be certainly the Rocks of Refuge!" cried Sir Michael, once more.
"The hermit said nothing of such towers and bastions as these," remarked his brother Simon, hesitating.
"They may have been built since last he was here," replied his brother.
And so they went on towards the castle. But it struck them as strange that there were neither peasants' huts, nor a village, nor cottagers'
dwellings at the base of this strange castle, as there was wont to be elsewhere. How was that?
"No doubt they have gathered all the peasantry within the walls of the castle." Thus did the credulous Sir Michael explain it all.
The watchman on the tower, when he saw the travellers drawing near, immediately sounded his horn, whereupon they let down the drawbridge which connected the footbridge with the castle gate. Strong retainers came forth to meet the new arrivals, and when the travellers gravely told them that they had come from afar, from the midst of the devastated kingdom, and knew not whether this was a good place of refuge or not, the men laughed aloud and said: "Yes, you have indeed come to a good place, comrades, for this is the castle of Sir Fulko, a famous and well-known warrior. The Tatar cannot come hither, though he fill up the whole valley. Here, too, there is no lack, for here is enough to eat and drink and to spare. Have you any treasures which you want put into a safe place?"
"Of a truth we have nothing at all but our good swords."
"Well, so much the better. You can enter into the knight's service, and can win a good wage by fighting valiantly beneath his banner."
"We want no money for our service; it suffices us if we can fight against the pagans beneath a good leader."
The lackeys laughed at the valorous way in which the youths spoke, and led them into the castle, and soon afterwards they brought them scented water in silver ewers, and made them wash and bathe themselves. Then they brought them splendid velvet and flowered damask garments embroidered with gold and crusted with diamonds. They also anointed their locks with fragrant unguents. Sir Fulko, they said, had commanded all these things to be done; he always received his guests with the like hospitality.
"But perchance we do not deserve this great honour," said Sir Simon, blushing, who was always a shamefaced man when favours were forced upon him.